


For Sale

by Dakzoo



Category: Furry (Fandom), Original Work
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-18 17:55:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29122272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dakzoo/pseuds/Dakzoo
Summary: The Vixen had been selling herself for years. The money made it worth it. Until tonight, when it wasn't.
Comments: 14
Kudos: 18





	For Sale

The night's heavy rain had been an unexpected but welcome blessing. It had soaked the vixen to the bone and made her already unpleasant walk home worse. But it also provided needed cover for the red fox to escape. Reaching with a shaking paw for the door of her room at the cheap motel, the vixen hurriedly inserted the key into the old worn lock and slipped inside.

A feeling of relief washed over the vixen as she quietly entered the safe confines of the tiny and outdated motel room that had served as her home the last few days. Pushing the door closed, she wasted no time fastening the latches and the locks on the old door. 

Stepping to the window, the vixen peeked carefully around the blinds. She scanned the dark parking lot for anyone that might have followed her back to the motel. Seeing no one, a sigh of relief escaped her lips. She was never this sloppy. But tonight was different. She had run, unconcerned about who saw her until she was already gone. All she knew was she had to get away. 

Letting go of the blinds, the vixen turned and walked into the room. Taking a deep breath, she noticed the exhaustion and the injuries sustained earlier in the night for the first time. Removing her wet jacket, she paused at the sudden sting of pain that shot down her arm. Placing a paw on the injured shoulder, she rotated the joint, wincing as it protested the movement. It wasn't a severe injury, but the pain would probably be with her for a while. 

Tonight was supposed to be an easy gig for the vixen. It was a hustle she had done plenty of times. Find her mark and start a conversation. Then, with the help of a mixture of alcohol and desire, she would convince him to invite her up to his room. Then once they were alone, she would do the deed and collect her pay.

Thinking back, the vixen reflected on her previous jobs. She had never felt anything for any of the males before, or any males really. There was no desire, no pity. She never cared who they were, why she was hired. To her, they weren't mammals. They were nothing more than a means to a paycheck. Not once in her time doing this had she ever shed even a single tear for any of them.

This separation that she had between the males and herself that helped her deal with what she did. She knew she sold a part of herself every time she took a gig. But it didn’t matter. The money was worth it. That is, until tonight.

Trying to push the thoughts from her mind, the vixen turned and looked out across the tiny and dilapidated space she called home. Her eyes traveled the room seeing the broken bed with its tattered blankets. The worn carpet was full of cigarette burns, and the old tube TV with no remote that only got two channels. The memories of the fancy hotel room she had been in only a few hours ago only served to make her situation more depressing. 

The vixen scowled. She hated that this was the closest she had to a home. But places like this were a necessity for those in her line of work. More than once, she had thought about finding some sort of small place to call her own. Nothing showy or fancy, just something that wasn't these cramped and depressing motel rooms. 

More than once, especially after a particularly well-paying gig, she would decide she was done living in these hard luck motels. She would set her mind on finding a place of her own. But she would never end up doing it. For all the comfort her own home would provide, it would also provide a way for those she was hiding from to find her. It just wasn't a risk she was willing to take. 

Tossing her jacket over the old rickety chair that sat in the corner, the vixen continued into the room, headed towards the tiny cramped bathroom. Like the rest of the motel room, it too was showing its age. But right now, that didn't matter. All the vixen cared about was taking a shower and washing the night from her fur. 

Earlier, when the vixen arrived at the hotel, she found her mark in the same place she found many of her past victims. Seated alone at the bar of some swanky hotel. Eating alone, his attention on his phone or the tv, it was easy for the vixen to tell who wasn't from around here. In this case, her target was a large and attractive grey wolf. Well dressed and in decent shape, he resembled every other rich canine she had taken care of in her short career. 

Sauntering up to the bar, she conveniently chooses the seat next to him. Ignoring him at first, the vixen ordered a drink. It was only white wine. She didn't want anything that might dull her senses. She knew her safety depended on her ability to think clearly. 

Mirroring her target, she looked at her phone and silently sipped her drink. Her face was one of indifference and loneliness. It was a look she practiced, and one that always caused some chivalrous male to offer to cheer her up. 

Tonight was no exception as she soon struck up a conversation with the wolf, and in no time at all had his undivided attention. Laughing at his lame jokes and gently touching his arm, she watched as he slipped further into her grasp. She pretended not to notice as his eyes traveled hungrily down her body when he thought she wasn't looking. There was no doubt in the vixen's mind he was interested. She was sure that getting him upstairs would be easy. 

Until it wasn't. The vixen was sure she had roped this male in, the unspoken offer of carnal delight being too much for him to resist. But, upon finishing his drink, resist he did. He didn't invite her up or try to discreetly pass her a key. He just asked the bartender for his tab and wished her a good night. 

The vixen sat there, shocked, as she watched him scribble his name on the receipt and leave. Never had a male she had been talking to for the last hour just left her alone at the bar before. It had never mattered in the past what species he was or if he had a mate. She was always able to convince them there was plenty of more fun to be had upstairs. But this wolf just left her sitting there alone.

Unsure of what to do, the vixen sat there for a few moments. Soon enough, the shock wore off, and the promise of the large payout she was to receive encouraged her to pursue her fleeing target. Glancing at the receipt he had signed, she was happy to see he charged it to his room, listing the number on the bottom. Hurriedly, she dashed for the elevators, determined not to let him escape. 

The feeling of the cold water of the shower splashing on her paw snapped the vixen back to the present. Pulling her paw away, she waited for the water to warm up. Turning from the shower, the vixen froze as she saw herself in the mirror. The fancy dress she wore was torn and streaked with the crimson red reminder of what happened. Slipping off the damaged garment, the vixen looked it over and frowned. It had been such a lovely dress. A rare indulgence she had allowed herself, rationalizing the purchase in that she could use it for work. 

Discarding the tattered garment with a disappointed sigh, the vixen removed the rest of her clothing before her eyes returned to her reflection. The vixen took great pride in her body, not out of vanity but out of necessity. It was a tool, one of her most reliable ones. 

Like many females of her species, her legs were long and slender. A slight flare at her hips then led to a slim, feminine, and athletic torso. Her breasts were supple and perky, never failing to grab the attention of any target, male of female. Behind her, her bushy tail flicked unconsciously, its thick fur the envy of many other species.

As she scanned her form, she frowned. Like her dress, she was covered with flecks and streaks of dark crimson standing out against her regular orangey-red coloring. They were reminders of what had happened earlier. 

Gazing upon her own face, the vixen sighed in disappointment. She looked tired and worn. Her eyes, the blue-green orbs she considered her best feature, now looked hollow and dim, like something important was missing. She was a far cry from the beautiful young vixen she saw when she looked into this same mirror a few hours ago. 

Turning away from the mirror and its demoralizing reflection, the vixen stepped into the shower. Taking a deep breath, she exhaled, slowly letting the hot water wash away the day's pain as it ran in streams down her body and through her fur. Reaching for the cheap shampoo the motel provided, the vixen slathered a generous amount onto her body. Diligently she scrubbed, dragging her claws through her fur as she did her best to wash away any trace of what happened earlier inside that hotel room. 

Having already overcome the earlier set-back of the wolf not inviting her up, the vixen now stood confidently at his door. After knocking, she could hear his muffled voice as he made his way to see who was at the door. 

Standing in the doorway, the now shirtless wolf stared wide-eyed at the vixen with a quizzical look on his face. He was speechless, as he tried to process why she was standing there in front of him. Smiling at his confusion, the vixen placed a paw on his chest and pushed him into the room. The wolf didn't resist, staring into her hungry eyes as he allowed her to push him into his room. 

Stumbling into the room, the wolf soon found his back pressed against the wall behind him. Following him, the vixen took a quick glance at the fancy room, for a second feeling a twinge of jealousy over the differences between her room and his. But she quickly pushed this thought from her mind as she focused on her task.

Following him in, the vixen pressed herself against him, never breaking eye contact. Wordlessly, she pushed her paws lower, searching for his bulge and the control over him that she knew her touch would give her.

Back in the shower, the vixen stepped under the warm spray of water. Feeling the heat soak into her fur helped relieve the pain she felt in her shoulder, but it wasn't the relaxing and cathartic experience she had hoped for. Placing her paws against the wall as she ducked her head under the spray, hoping the feeling of the water would drown out the memory that tormented her.

Pressed against the wall, the wolf looked into her smiling visage as her paw fumbled with his zipper. Panic crossed his face as he forcefully pushed her away. The vixen smiled as she continued the chase. Stepping towards him, she again reached out to touch him. She wasn't sure what his problem was, but the concerned and unsure look on his face assured her he wasn't a danger to her. 

Batting her paw away, the wolf stood with his paws held in front of himself defensively. "I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong idea in the bar," He said apologetically. "But I wasn't looking for company tonight." Pausing, he reached down and closed the zipper on his pants the vixen had unzipped moments earlier. "I have a family, a mate. You're a beautiful vixen," he said, pausing briefly, allowing his eyes to travel her body before he continued, "but I was just making conversation," he said. 

Staring at the drain, the vixen remembered the shock of hearing him say that. She had lost count of the number of males she had been hired to take care of that couldn't care less about a family or a mate back home. But he was different. He cared. Unfortunately for the wolf it didn't matter that he might be a better mammal than most of her targets. He still had to die. 

Losing any look of seduction from her face, the vixen stepped towards the wolf. Again, he apologized, but she wasn't listening, instead focused on the task at hand. She knew it would be more challenging this way. It's why she usually tried to keep them aroused and distracted. That way, she could strike the fatal blow before they ever knew her true motives.

Her only hope was he would be too surprised to react quickly. Reaching into her sleeve, the vixen produced a small retractable blade. Before the wolf could respond, she had plunged it into his midsection. Looking down in horror, the wolf was indeed surprised to see the vixen he was trying to console thrust the small blade into his body. 

Pulling the piece of steel from her victim's body, the vixen slashed, raking the blade across his chest, a ruby red line of blood appearing in its wake. Crying out in pain, the wolf seemed to finally realize the peril he was in as he swung at the vixen connecting with her shoulder. The force of the blow caused the vixen to drop her weapon. Falling to the ground a few feet from the wolf, as he reached to stanch the flow of blood from his chest. 

Not deterred, the vixen quickly jumped back to her feet, scooping up the knife as she went. 

Turning off the water, the vixen stepped from the shower and reached for the thread-bare hotel towel to dry her fur. Fortunately, the hot water had helped with the sore joint's stiffness, making the pain bearable. As she wiped down her fur, she found other bruises, mementos of the wolf's attempts to fight back.

The wolf had swung wildly, trying in vain to connect with his attacker. The vixen did her best to avoid the angry wolf, but the hotel room was small and didn't leave her much room to evade his attacks. Finally, luck turned the wolf's way, and he was able to catch the vixen, grabbing her around her wrist.

Trying to break his grip, she swung her other paw only to end up restrained by the larger mammal. Squeezing her arms, the wolf sent lightning bolts of pain through the vixen's arms, causing her to drop the blade.

“Why? What did I ever do to you?” He asked, his voice little more than a growl as he continued to apply more pressure. 

Ignoring the pain in her arms, the vixen instead concentrated on finding a way out of the powerful wolf's paws. Unfortunately for the wolf, a well-aimed kick to his most sensitive of areas is what she chooses to facilitate her escape.

With the wolf stumbling back in pain, the vixen quickly regained her weapon and lunged at the wolf, burying the blade into his chest. The wolf howled in pain as he tossed the vixen back, pulling her knife out as she went. 

Staggering back, the wolf pawed at the new wound, while the vixen allowed the faintest of smiles to cross her muzzle. She knew from experience and from the location of the injury she had struck a killing blow. It was now only a matter of time before he bled out, and her job was done.

Standing from where she had landed, the vixen stared at her victim. He maintained his balance for a moment, but soon he fell, feeling himself growing dizzy from the loss of blood. With the will to fight back gone, the wolf dropped to his knees, using the be to keep himself from falling.

Looking to his attacker as he struggled to keep from falling, the wolf asked again. "Why?"

Answering honestly, the vixen said, "I don't know. I don't ask why. Only how much."

Silently the wolf stared at the vixen hoping for some bit of information, some small amount of closure to know why he was targeted. But she didn't offer anything, only standing there stoically watching as his life drained away. Growing weaker, the wolf sat on the floor, the bed behind him the only reason he was not laying down. 

Confident that he was past the point of help, the vixen turned and quickly walked to the hotel room door. With her paw on the handle of the door, she paused as the quiet sound of a ringing phone broke the silence of the room. 

Upon hearing the sound, the vixen had paused and turned back to see the wolf reaching into his pocket, attempting to retrieve his cell phone. But the shaky, blood-covered paws of the dying wolf caused him to drop the phone where it landed on the ground in front of him. 

With her fur as dry as it was going to get, the vixen tossed the towel aside. Her fur was clean, the blood that had stained the white fur of her chest and stomach had washed away. But the vixen still felt dirty, and her eyes still looked empty. Not bothering to dress, the vixen left the bathroom and walked over to the broken bed with its tattered blankets. 

In her mind, the vixen pictured that phone and the face of the caller. Reaching for her nightstand, she found the half-empty bottle of whiskey she had left there the night before. Removing the top, the vixen, without pause, took several large gulps of the oaky brown liquid.

Bringing the bottle with her, the vixen crawled into bed, sitting with her back against the headboard. Taking another long drink, she shuddered as she remembered the phone and the mammal pictured on the screen.

"It's my wife," The wolf offered as he watched the vixen inspect the device.

The vixen was silent as she looked at the picture. 

"Can I say goodbye?" The wolf asked, his voice labored. "I won't say anything about you."

She wasn't sure why she did it. It was stupid, and she knew it. The wolf could give his mate any amount of information that might endanger her. But without thinking, she hit the answer button and placed the phone next to the wolf. 

"Hey," the wolf said as he tried to hide the fear and pain in his voice.

"Hey…" his wife answered happily, "how's your trip? Are you having fun? Not getting yourself into trouble, are you?" She said with a laugh, unaware that this would be their final conversation.

Grimacing, the wolf ignored her questions and answered, "I just wanted to let you know how much I love you," he said as a wave of pain caused his breath to catch in his throat. 

Hearing his odd response, the she-wolf paused and then warily answered, "I love you too. What's going on? Are you alright?"

The wolf paused, not sure exactly how to tell her. "No, I'm not." He said, finally trying his best to hold back tears. "I was attacked,"

"Attacked? John, this isn't funny!" the she-wolf said, 

"I'm not kidding, Amy. I'm hurt pretty bad. I don't think I'm going to make it home tomorrow."

With concern in her voice, Amy asked, "Not going to make it home? What are you talking about? Are you in the hospital? Are they keeping you there?"

"No. Amy," John said. "I'm in my hotel room. I'm hurt pretty bad. They hired someone….."

"Hired someone!" Amy said in a panic.

John shook his head, his voice growing weaker. "I don't know who…."

"That doesn't matter," Amy practically screamed into the phone. Why are you talking to me? Hang up! Call for help! Or I'll call. What's your room number?"

John grimaced as a wave of pain racked his body. "There isn't time," He said, his breath growing more ragged. "I just wanted you to know how much I loved you and the pups."

"I love you too, please hold on!" 

"And, I'm sorry I won't be there for you," John said, talking over his wife, desperate to get his words out before he couldn't. 

"No, no, please," Amy begged, her voice panic and heavy with sadness. "Please, hold on! John, I can't do this without you."

Slumping against the bed, John's breathing was getting rougher, and his voice was getting raspy. "I just wanted you to know how special you are……. how much…….. I love………. you."

"I love you too," Amy cried. 

"…"

"…"

"John? John?" Amy said. "John? No, oh please, NO, JOHN! No! Please NO. NO, NO NO NO, JOHN?" Her words blending together as her grief began to overwhelm her. "Please, NO. John. No!"

But John didn't answer. Walking over from where she was standing, the vixen bent down, placing a paw against his neck. There was no pulse. John was gone. 

"Please, no…." Amy cried again, knowing the silence meant her mate was gone. 

Standing, the vixen looked at the phone for a second before she turned to leave the room. But she paused. Her eyes again finding the source of the anguished crying. Stepping back to the phone, the vixen picked it up and said simply. "I'm sorry." Before she rushed from the room, leaving Amy to suffer in silence.

Sitting on her bed, the vixen took another look drink from the bottle she held in her paws until the last of the spirit drained from the bottle. Dropping the empty bottle, the vixen tried to concentrate on the burn of the liquor. Wishing it to block out Amy's cries, the vixen continued to hear over her mate's loss. 

The vixen had never felt anything for any of her victims before. There was no remorse, no pity. She never cared who they were, why she was hired to kill them. To her, they weren't mammals. They were nothing more than a means to a paycheck. 

Pulling her knees to her chest, the vixen felt her eyes grow misty. She knew she sold a part of herself every time she took a life. But in the past, she was able to deal with it. She rationalized that the money was worth the piece of herself she lost. 

That is, until tonight. When she sat naked, and alone with nothing left to sell. Tonight, she cried. 

**Author's Note:**

> It started out as a Zootopia story and became this. I hope you enjoyed it. Please let me know what you think below.


End file.
